


Six Months Later

by KarmaWaykes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 14:22:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2028336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarmaWaykes/pseuds/KarmaWaykes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months later.  For everything.  Sometimes Sherlock pisses John off, sometimes vice versa...but most of the time it's Sherlock.  Friend's protect each other, is the last thing John says to Sherlock's face....and then Sherlock goes and protects him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Months Later

Every now and then Sherlock pissed John off to very high extents. But of course, they always made up, sometimes Sherlock would come back to 221B Baker street bearing milk and John’s favorite jam, sometimes (if John had done the pissing of the off) the other man would bring home -- quite hesitantly at first and always with a pained expression etched on his face -- some poor cadaver’s extremities or what not for the genius consulting detective. At some point in time Sherlock started to stop playing his violin at random hours in the early morning (if John came home extremely weary). After John got married Sherlock did his best to show his best friend he was happy for him. Truth be told, if Mary hadn’t of shot him and nearly killed him he might have actually grown to like her. Of course after John found out about the said shooting incident Mary was no longer part of the difficult equations that made up Sherlock’s life.  
One day while John was at Harry’s house (which Sherlock found out later) Sherlock decided it was perfect timing to admit to John that he had feelings for him. It was a rather incredible speech, it really was too bad that John hadn’t been around to hear it. It started off simple: “John.” and then went into such complexities that John probably wouldn’t have even understood it if he were to be there. To break it down into easier words for you, here is what Mrs. Hudson explained it to Greg Lestrade as.  
“Oh, it was the sweetest thing! That Sherlock can be quite a sweetheart when he wants to be, oh, and don’t tell him I said that will you Greg, the poor boy would have my head. He started off as though he was going to give a lecture, John...he said. At first I thought John had silently replied because he paused for a good five seconds, but as I was about to go into the room to give the boys some tea, he continued:”

“John, I don’t quite understand what’s going on with me here. But I’ve read about these stupid things before, and I know what damage they cause. I thought, however, if I could get this off of my chest it would go away, so just listen and bear it. When I see you my pulse quickens, it beats as fast as my mind works. Though I know that technically that is impossible. John I have told you before and now I shall tell you again I would be lost without my blogger.” “And then he paused and I think he set something down on the table, but then he continued, I do think I’m in love with you John. For whatever foolish reason. Tell me John…how do you feel about this?” 

“Now Greg, you must understand that John was at his sister’s house — what’s her name? Oh, yes! Harry! — I found that out later. And poor Sherlock, when John didn’t answer. You should have seen the look on the poor boy’s face I tell you. He was heartbroken! Never thought I would ever see that look on a Holmes but there it was! Plain as day! But I don’t think he knew that John was gone all day, after all you know how he does that talking to John even when John’s not there! But later when John came home! Oh my…he came down and asked me if I had brought them tea and the biscuits with the jam he loves so much. And I hadn’t, but John said that Sherlock had claimed that I had! Sherlock must have put them out for him but was to shy to take credit. The poor boy loved John to bits, and if he was even half he genius we all know him to be he would see that John loves him just as much — if not more!”  
Six months later, John told Sherlock that friends protect each other.  
And then Sherlock went and protected his closest friend.  
The next time John saw him Sherlock was jumping off of St. Bart’s hospital. 

John was inconsolable those first few months. He wouldn’t talk to anyone, he didn’t eat, he didn’t sleep. He never truly accepted the fact that everyone “knew” Sherlock was without a doubt “dead”. The Suicide of Fake Genius hit the tabloids and ran rampant for the first few months as well — even two years running it was still there haunting John. Finally five months after Sherlock jumped John found Mary Morstan. Mrs. Hudson was of course out of the loop, she was too busy trying to get John to talk to her. Finally he did. What he said would haunt Mrs. Hudson for the rest of her life.  
“When I first met Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson, I thought he was the most annoying, lazy, handsome, and irritable human being on this god-forsaken planet. And then I got to know him, incredibly well in fact, when you live with someone like that you tend to get to know them quite well. And I still thought he was the most annoying, lazy, handsome, and irritable human being I do believe I’d ever met. But the damned man consulted and detected his way into my damn heart. And do try to remember Mrs. Hudson, I’m not gay.” If John wasn’t so engrossed in his speech he may have noticed the small noise of disbelief the older women made. But he was and he didn’t.  
“And for the life of me I don’t think I’ll ever understand why, but Sherlock Holmes has become my best friend and my favorite companion. Had. Had become my best friend and my favorite companion. Jesus Christ! It’s been, what? A year and a half already and still find myself forgetting.” He sat down, “You see, Mrs. Hudson, when you find that one person who connects you to the world, you become someone different, someone better. So tell me, when that person is taken from you, what do you become then?”  
And then John Watson left 221B Baker Street and didn’t look back.

 

His scarf was blue,  
The pavement was red,  
They thought he’s a fake,  
Now Sherlock is dead.

His wrists were red,  
His days were blue,  
Sherlock didn’t come back,  
So John left, too.

The flowers were yellow,  
The grass was green,  
Now nobody dwells,  
At 221B.

**Author's Note:**

> So hey guys, umm this is my second Johnlock fic and the poem isn't mine but I couldn't find the author so all credits to that awesome poetic Sherlockian. Tell me if I should go on or just not you know, oh, and if you know who the author is. So yeah...


End file.
